Doorway of Impeccability
by Siriuslyfun19212
Summary: I stand at the line of right and wrong. Which side do I reside? Who can say if we are good at heart? Who can say if we have done the right thing? Isn’t that how all bad things begin? We meant well. We always mean well. We wanted her safe. We failed.


Author Notes: I want to explain the title, because I think the title is one of the main 'mood setters'. Doorway of Impeccability is my creation, meaning 'the line between right and wrong'. The focus of that is mostly within the last paragraph.  
The epigraph is from the musical Wicked.

Summary: I stand at the line of right and wrong. Which side do I reside? Who can say if we are good at heart? Who can say if we have done the right thing? Isn't that how all bad things begin? We meant well. We always mean well. We wanted her safe. We failed.

Short Summary: This is from Alice's POV. She is on the flight to Washington, having just had her vision of Bella jumping off of the cliff.

As always, I hope you like it. Please review at the end. : )

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Doorway of Impeccability

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_No good deed goes unpunished_  
_Sure, I meant well -  
Well, look at what well-meant did  
- No Good Deed_

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I will never forgive myself.

What a lovely trail of disaster I have embarked on. Even with this… _power_… I find myself too late. I'm always too late. Every second that passes is another second I'm useless. I cannot do anything.

…Especially in this God-awful airplane. Its speed is flawless in comparison to a car, but I feel like I could run faster. The clouds are passing slowly—always a bad sign. It isn't even raining, yet.

I will never look past my foolishness. If I had been looking—sure, I would have broken the promise Edward made me _swear_ to keep—but what was the outcome of that promise? Bella.

She killed herself.

I can't really comprehend that.

She _killed_ herself!

She tossed herself off a cliff—who knows, she may even be alive now, but not for long. I can't possibly get there in time.

Edward will blame himself.

_As he should_, a voice said in the back of my head. It sounded, as much as I hated to admit it, a bit like Rosalie—sly, sardonic.

I tried to ward off those thoughts. Of course, I knew it wasn't Edward's fault.

_And just who are you trying to convince? Yourself? It isn't working._

It wasn't his fault. It was my fault. I should have been looking, watching out for her—Edward, a vampire, handled it despicably. She was a _human_—as much as I hated acknowledge it, she was much more adept to these dangerous things, especially with her history of clumsiness. Edward was only doing what he thought was best. The outcome was a mistake—a coincidence, you could say.

_That's a lie, and you know it._

Perhaps I do know it! What difference will it make? If I can, for one moment, relax myself into thinking everything is alright, maybe I'll sprout wings and learn to fly—I can bust through these airplane doors and go to her rescue, grab her moments before she hits the water, and slap some sense into her.

Who am I kidding?

The damage is done, I can't help that.

Could I call somebody? As if I haven't tried. No one will answer the home phone, and nobody in her family has a cell phone. She isn't with anybody, as far as my vision could tell. A brief look outside the window—depressing. The exact sun that was in my mind. It has dwindled down to a mere peeking over the horizon—it is hidden by the impending storm. I am, in all honesty, still surprised the airplane flew with a hurricane coming. With my luck, we'll probably have to land in Phoenix to wait it out. Renee, for some reason, would be there, talking about how much she loves her daughter. For all I know, she could be waiting to board a flight to check up on Bella. I'd hate for her to meet me.

"Would you like to see some baby photos of her? She's so pretty!" Renee would say as she pulled out her wallet.

I would nod, trying to hold a smile, but somehow—_somehow_—the words would slip.

"Your daughter's dead."

Of course, I'm the one to break the news.

That won't happen. I can't let it happen. What are the chances of this plane having to land prematurely to avoid peril-by-hurricane? What are the chances of us landing in Phoenix? What are the chances of Renee being there?

_Dead on, I'd say. The world doesn't like you._

The world doesn't like me at all. I'm the one who has to face Charlie when he finds out his daughter tossed herself off a cliff—the words he will say about Edward, my brother. I'm the one who gets to see what his future will be like—a black void, a routine; no emotion. I'm the one who will get to tell Edward—the whole family, even.

_Stop thinking like that!_ For once, my own voice filtered my mind.

I'll do what I can.

What can I do? Plan funeral arrangements for a friend I had left without so much as a 'goodbye'? Comfort the father who couldn't even help her—because he didn't even have that power. The only ones who did—vampires. We left to give her safety? A fat load of help that did. Let us lie within our success.

Joyous. What, world, hath you brought down? You make a remarkable stand on cruelty.

So here I am, waiting for life to bring its awful wrath. We left her—our intentions were good, but not thought out thoroughly. I stand at the line—the difference between right and wrong. Which side do I reside? With these results, who can say if we are good at heart? Who can say if we have done the right thing? Isn't that how all bad things begin? We meant well. We always mean well. We wanted her safe. We failed.


End file.
